The Road to Healing
by MarMarLuvs
Summary: An alteration of some events in X3. The Professor helped Marie learn to control her mutation before he died. Logan gave her a reason to stay at the mansion after she saw Kitty and Bobby ice skating. This is a look into life after The Last Stand for Logan and Marie, and how the road to healing is best traveled together.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim any rights to the X-Men or any recognizable characters herein. No monetarily gain is made from this story.

**Author's note**:

Hey guys! This is my first ever X-Men story and I'm really excited to share it with all of you!

This first chapter is a prequel and takes place during X3. I'm not going to go into any details of how Marie learned to control her skin, so let's all just assume that the Professor taught her to control and understand her mutation before he died.

As a warning, I'm a dessert first kind of gal, so there is a bit of lovin' in this first chapter... Enjoy and please review!

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Marie marched down the main hall with her packed duffle clutched tightly in one hand. She tried to hold back her tears as she made her way towards the front doors.

_After all I've done, it wasn't enough,_ she thought. Just moments ago, Marie stood at her window and watched Bobby and Kitty at the fountain below. It crushed her to see how easily he took Kitty's hand in his own. Everyone at the mansion felt the grief of the Professor's death- including Rogue- and yet it was Kitty that Bobby went to and comforted. And he did it without flinching away from her touch.

Marie now had control over her deadly mutation, but she still saw the panic in her boyfriend's eyes whenever she reached for him. He rejected her. He went to Kitty.

It was a dramatic reaction to leave, she knew. And if she was honest with herself, she didn't really love Bobby. Lord knows, she didn't master her mutation just for him, but it still hurt. And it wasn't just Bobby. For most of the students at the mansion it had become a subconscious habit to shy from Rogue. In a place built for freaks, she was still an anomaly. And she was tired of convincing herself that she belonged.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see Logan appear from a doorway.

"Need a lift, kid?"

Marie turned to him and lifted her chin. "No."

He noted her bag and asked, "Where you goin'?"

"Ya don't know what it's like ta be afraid of your powers. Ta be afraid ta get close ta anybody."

"Yeah, I do." Logan's face softened.

"I wanted ta be able to touch people, Logan. A hug. A handshake. A kiss. And now that I can-," She broke off at a loss for words.

"I hope you're not doing this for some boy."

She avoided his gaze. "I always hid behind my mutation. I used it as an excuse. Because of that, nobody here knows who I really am. Most of the mansion wouldn' even notice if I left."

Logan stepped towards her and cupped her face in his hands. Marie noted the gentleness he seemed to reserve only for her. "I know you, Marie. I would notice if you left. I'd even go after you, darlin'."

She closed her eyes and focused on the way Logan moved his thumb over her cheek. "Because you made a promise to a lost kid, years ago."

"No Marie, because I care about you. I made you that promise because you were the first person, in all that I can remember, to care about me too." He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin. He smelled like the woods and she found it soothing. "I'm not your father, so I can't tell you to go upstairs and unpack, but I am your friend so I'll ask you to stay."

She choked out a sob and buried her face into his neck, embarrassed by her own emotional reaction. "Bobby and Kitty-"

He shook his head and his scruff scratched across the top of her hair. "I saw them, darlin'. They're just ice skating."

"No. Bobby is still afraid of touching me. It's been weeks and he won't touch me."

Logan growled out, "Iceboy's an idiot."

Marie tilted her head back and looked at the unusual tenderness softening the Wolverine's expressions. A longstanding attraction to the man stirred her emotions, and she watched him lean forward to place soft kisses on her fluttering eyelids.

"He doesn't know what he's missing, Marie," he murmured against her skin. The rumble of his words vibrated through her and settled in her belly.

She had long ago convinced herself that she was over her teenage crush, but her breath caught when he moved his feathery kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. One sensitized kiss to her jawline sent her forward to capture his lips with her own.

They moved slowly, intimately. She moved her lips hesitantly against his, tracing and memorizing the texture of his lips with her own. He moved more confidently, but kept her pace. Marie had no experience kissing like this before, but could only describe it as sensual. With Bobby, he sought to somehow sate his hormones before her mutation kicked in.

While she felt like she could kiss him forever like this, something grew within her and pleaded for more. The thought that she needed to taste him somehow flashed across her mind, and she flicked her tongue out to lick his bottom lip.

In an instant, Logan broke the kiss and moved so he was holding her again. His body was tense and she waited a moment as he panted in her ear.

"Stay," he growled to her.

She nodded to his chest and he took the duffle from her hand. With his free hand, he took one of hers and tugged her back down the hall to the stairs. She had to jog to keep with his pace.

As they reached his door, the tenderness he displayed before vanished and he all but tossed her in the room. She stumbled in surprise and landed on his bed, splayed on her back. Before she could sit up, he covered her body with his own. He used his powerful legs to lock hers in place between his, and propped himself up on his elbows around her face. It was his turn to taste, and he thrust his tongue past her lips to massage her mouth.

When she needed to breathe, he nipped his way to her ear and down her neck. She let out a yelp in surprise, jolted by the sensations. He mumbled an apology against her throat and tried to pull back, but she fisted his hair and brought his mouth to hers once again. Feeling bolder, she sucked on his tongue when he plunged it back into her mouth. Logan growled and jerked his hips against her. Her name escaped his lips in a whispered plea. She wasn't sure what he was asking her for, but in that moment, she was sure she would give it to him.

A familiar sensation pooled between her legs, and she rubbed her thighs together to try to relieve the tension. Logan noticed the movement and wedged his thigh against her center. She moaned as she felt his body heat radiating through his jeans, and reflexively worked against it. One of his hands moved to angle her leg better around his waist, and the other expertly worked open the buttons on her top.

Logan growled as he tore her bra off impatiently, and Marie trembled under the look of intensity he gave her. She wondered if she had ever seen anyone so naturally masculine. He worshiped her breasts with his lips and teeth and Marie let her eyes roll back, giving in to the pleasure.

"Oh God, Logan!" She cried after she felt a particularly sharp bite to the underside of her breast.

"You taste so good, darlin'," he replied to her cry. He took his time running his tongue down to her pant button, not missing a single inch of her salty skin.

Aware of just how far this would go, Marie propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him.

"Don't do this just because you feel sorry for me," she blurted out before she could stop herself. The buildup of insecurities and emotions of the day were reappearing in her mind. She had wanted Logan like this for a long time, but she wouldn't take him out of pity.

He narrowed his eyes at her and moved back her body, putting his face a inch from hers.

"Don't do this just because of that Ice-shit."

Reassured, Marie softened her gaze and kissed the corner of his frowning mouth. Without breaking eye contact, she gently opened his shirt one button at a time. He remained immobile when she scraped her nails down his abdomen, so she locked her ankles behind his back to rub against his erection until he was reassured too.

Marie peeled off the remainder of their clothes and surrendered herself to Logan completely.

When he entered her, he swallowed her cry and kissed her tears. They moved together in perfect unison, chasing each other to paradise in a long-recited dance. Lost in one another, they allowed themselves to forget their grief for the professor and Scott, their worries about Jean, about Bobby and Kitty. Nothing else existed.

Afterwards, Marie turned on her side and landed her sated gaze on the man beside her. She watched his chest expand as he pulled from his cigar. Her own tightened from something else. She opened her mouth to voice her emotions, but he leaned forward and captured her lips with his own and moved his body over hers again, silencing her for the rest of the night.

It was in the early hours of the morning, after another round of love making, that Ororo called them to the jet hanger. She told them to gear up and prepare to leave for Worthington Labs at Alcatraz Island.


	2. A Year Later

One year later...

Marie stood at the sink in the kitchen cleaning the last few dishes from dinner, her hands pruning in the water. She knew the mansion staff could take care of it, but if she didn't keep busy somehow she would be consumed with thoughts of the man upstairs. Well, the man she assumed was still upstairs. She noticed that Logan was again absent from every meal today. If not for the violent cries she heard from across the hall at night, she would wonder if he was really still at the mansion at all.

It had been almost a year since the Professor, Scott and Jean died. Sometimes it felt like less, when she would walk past the Professor's office and have to remind herself that it belonged to Storm now.

But sometimes drifting halfway between consciousness and sleep at night, when she remembered Logan's fingers on her skin and his breath on her throat, it felt like lifetimes ago.

When she woke the morning after that fateful night, he looked at her with such tenderness. They didn't speak. Only tasted, touched, explored.

Now Marie wished that she had said something. Wished that she had admitted to him how she really felt - that it was more that just a teenage crush. Told him that she trusted him since all those years ago when he said he would take care of her and then risked his life for hers at the Statue of Liberty. That she has loved him since he gave her his tags.

No, they didn't speak. They went off with the X-Men to Alcatraz Island, and when they returned everything was broken.

Logan was lost.

Engrossed by the memories of that night. Memories of Jean. He drowned himself in guilt, pain, and hate.

At first, the X-Men tried to help him heal. He was a teammate and he saved all of their lives. For three months, they each tried different tactics, different ways to approach him. Bobby and Kitty were the first to give up, too engrossed in healing each other. Then reluctantly Ororo, when the school year started up again. Eventually so did everyone else, when a visit to Logan resulted in splintered furniture and Hank suturing his own arm.

Only Marie continued to clean his clothes, bring him food, and sit with him when he would allow it.

Until he put a padlock on his door.

She remembered how enraged she felt. She was almost tempted to allow Erik to take over her body and show him what for.

How could he shut her out like that after everything they've been through together? But she didn't give up on him, didn't lose sight of what he needed. She owed it to him. So religiously, she put together a plate of food every night and left it outside of his door. On good days, Marie would open her door to find the empty dished stacked neatly together. Those days Marie would dream up fantasies where things would go back to how they used to be.

More often than not, when she came out of her room the next morning, the food would be untouched.

_So much for not thinking about him._ Marie sighed and angrily dropped the pan she was holding back in the sink. _Pitiful_.

She had a hard time not thinking about him though. Sometimes she made herself sick worrying about him. Marie wanted to help, but she knew he needed time to deal with his emotions. Time to mourn Jean in his own way.

But didn't they all mourn for Jean, Scott and The Professor? Hadn't she given him enough time by now? Why did he get to be so selfish, when everyone else had to move on?

She certainly did. Any of her lingering innocence, that transitioning young adults have, died after Alcatraz. Overnight, Marie had to grow up, toughen up and move forward, or be left to rot in this ugly new world.

Everyone had to. Their mentor had died at the hands of one of their own, and without his guidance, they all struggled to adjust. But they had, one-by-one. Life continued at the mansion. They all learned to smile again.

But not Logan.

Marie rubbed her hands over her face in irritation. Feeling frustrated with herself letting this go on for so long.

What was she doing, still delivering his meals? When was the last time she even spoke to him? It was time to snap him out of it. Tell him to wake up and move on!

She spun around and looked around the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Her brow furrowed and the wheels turning in her head.

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**AN: Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs that I've gotten so far! Once again, this is the first time that I've done anything with these characters, so let me know what you think of my take on them or any other thoughts on the story! I'd appreciate it :)**

**I know there wasn't too much (or any) action in this chapter, but I wanted to bring you all up to speed with where I wanted this story to really go! I'll have the next chapter posted after the weekend.**


	3. Apple Pie

Marie teetered up the last couple of stairs to the second floor with a warm apple pie balancing in one hand and Logan's usual dinner in the other. Hours ago this plan seemed like a great idea - to approach in a comforting manner, but be as firm as an adamantium fist. Second guessing herself, she wondered if she went a little overboard in her efforts. She had tried to remember what little her mother taught her about southern hospitality before she left home, and put on a green summer dress, borrowed some of Jubilee's makeup, and spent the last hour watching the minutes on the oven timer count down.

She really hoped that it wasn't too late.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within her as she came closer, and closer to his door. Anger, towards herself for not putting an end to it sooner and towards Logan for being a selfish bastard. Doubt, in her own abilities to save him, even though she wasn't that girl who tried to flee from her fears anymore. And mostly fear. A terror that constricted around her throat when she thought about him locking her out for good and abandoning her to live in a wasteland of guilt.

Out of habit, she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The tension growing in her stomach spread throughout her until she was trembling so hard the fork fell to the floor. Part of her wanted to turn around, but she couldn't. No matter what, the man behind that door was still Logan. Her Logan. Besides facing the inevitable, what could she possibly be afraid of?

_How about six adamantium claws and an ill-mannered temper?_ Came some snarky comment from the back of her mind as she reached his door. She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the voice.

_This is ridiculous, Rogue. You're an X-Man, practically a superhero._

Taking a deep breath, she cleared her thoughts and called upon all of the strength and courage she could muster from both Magneto and the Wolverine. Considering the two personalities, it turned out to not be the best idea.

Before she was even aware of what she was doing, she kicked open the door, tearing half of the frame from the drywall and sent it showering onto Logan's floor. Any half-formed plans involving subtlety shattered with the door, and Marie suddenly realized how she must look. Entering his room like some kind of crazed warrior while holding the modern universal piece offering - apple pie.

_You're off to a great start, Marie_.

Logan appeared to be altogether disconcerted since he probably heard her miniature panic attack before she obliterated his door. He lit a cigar and only treated Marie with a sideways glance. She noticed that his room was littered with empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays.

"Whaddaya want, kid?" She was barely able to translate his growl into words.

'I'm not a kid,' she wanted to respond out of habit. She choked on the retort before she could voice it. And she suddenly very much felt like one in her stupid dress, holding her damn one hundred pound pie.

She took a few tentative steps to the corner where he sat, still licking his wounds. She cleared her throat, and the sound was startlingly loud. "I - We... We miss ya, sugah."

After a beat, "I brought ya somethin' ta eat. I know ya haven' been eatin' tha things I've been leavin' for ya. And I thought ya might want some company for a change."

No response. The only movement from the chair came from the thin line of smoke dancing up from his cigar.

Her pity and sadness for him began to shift to irritation. He must have sensed the change because he turned his head to look at her. He examined her appearance and the debris on the floor.

"Jesus, kid. So you decide to break in here and what? You gonna hand feed me? Talk to me about the weather?" He barked out a cold laugh. The dark expression on his face was one he wore to scare off his enemies on the battlefield, but Marie recognized the front.

She tried to reign in her temper. This moment meant everything, and she was lucky to have made it this far. She dropped the food onto the stand beside her and looked back to him.

"Look Logan, I worry 'bout ya. We all just want ta help ya. I've been tryin ta help ya. I coulda done more if ya didn't lock me out for the past year! Ya shouldn't have been alone in here. Ya shoulda let me in."

He snarled, still defensive. "Well, maybe you should've just taken the damn hint. I don't want your sympathy or your pity. I didn't ask for you to leave that shit outside of my door everyday. I put that lock on the door for a reason, kid."

Marie's expression softened when she recognized the pleading in his tone. While he tried to appear cold and mean, the man in front of her was still very broken.

"I haven' been doin' these things because I feel sorry for ya, Logan. It hurts me ta walk past your room every night and hear the pain you're in. It kills me when I see ya haven' touched the stuff I leave ya. I'm here, right now, because I care 'bout ya. It's been so long an' I want to help ya move on. I keep thinking about that night we spent together when we - "

"The night we what, Marie? Fucked?" He licked his lips and looked back at her dress. "Oh I remember. Is that what you came here for? You gonna make me feel better, darlin'?"

Marie held his gaze, not backing down from his challenge. "Stop. I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. I won't let ya push me away again."

She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he caught her wrist. She lowered her voice and tried again, "You're my best friend, Logan. I can't give up on ya. I won't. Ya always were there to take care of me. Let me do this for ya."

Logan swallowed thickly and turned into himself in the chair, dropping her wrist. "You can't fix this. You can't make it go away."

Marie pulled off her shoes and dropped to her knees beside him. When she reached her hand out again to touch him, he didn't stop her. She tilted her head to her left a margin and rested it on his warm sleeve.

"I know," she whispered softly.

She half expected him to yell at her. Maybe tell her to 'Fuck off' in that deep, rumbling voice. She prepared for it, and took in everything about him. She readied herself for goodbye.

Instead, he clenched his fist tightly for a few seconds, and she felt his muscles of his forearm tighten under her head. Then very slowly, his arm relaxed and she felt his fingers reached out to brush a wisp of her hair that fell over the arm of the chair to his lap.

She closed her eyes and tried to trap her tears behind her eyelids. He could probably smell them anyway.


	4. Logan's Tears

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim any rights to the X-Men or any recognizable characters herein. No monetarily gain is made from this story.

**AN: Thanks everyone for all of the reviews and feedback. I really do appreciate hearing your opinions, good or bad. So feel free to let me know what you think.**

**This chapter is another angsty one. Unfortunately the road to healing is rather brutal. Such is life. But I promise we'll see some blue skies again soon. At least this chapter is in Logan's POV. Woohoo!**

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Logan stood facing Jean. They were back on the island. This time, they were alone. The ground was free of debris and the Golden Gate Bridge was visible through the light mist in the distance.

"I can be the good guy, Jean."

Jean sent him a small smile.

"I don't remember what kind of guy I was before. Maybe I was the good guy."

Her smile widened and the earth trembled.

"I think Chuck knew I could be. He believed in this good. He wanted me to be part of it."

She rose a brow in question. Her voice was deeper than he remembered. "The X-Men? The Professor didn't keep you around to play the hero, Wolverine. You could do things that the good guys couldn't. Guys like Scott."

"No darlin'," He pleaded with her, "Charles -"

She barked out a sharp laugh. "Charles is dead! You couldn't save him." Her eyes turned black and her hair glowed like fire. "You couldn't save Scott. They're Dead! They're dead because you don't know how to be the hero."

This felt familiar to him somehow. He remembered seeing this before. He knew that it was wrong somehow.

The beast inside him growled in warning. Before Jean could react, he sent his claws through her chest.

"No, Jean. You killed them," he whispered softly to her.

Phoenix faltered and grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling. She put her lips to his ear and he could feel her blood drip down his neck.

"But you killed me, Logan."

"I - I tried to save you. I loved you. I wanted to save you."

"You killed me."

* * *

Logan opened his eyes slowly, hesitantly. He had been asleep for hours, but his muscles were tense. His body was tired.

Marie sat folded up in his chair, still sleeping. It was barely morning. Just a few moments past dawn.

He turned on his bed to look at her better. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and lighter from the summer sun. Her face still held the image of innocence, but even in her sleep, he could tell that she had grown up. Without her gloves and scarves, and with the attitude she had when she burst into his room last night, he saw a confidence in her that he didn't recognize before.

And she was beautiful.

Images of the night they spent together tangled in his bed played before his eyes, and forced him to look away from her. He didn't deserve to have those memories of her. Didn't deserve to have her here, now.

Last night, she came to him and he wondered how she could still care. She refused to leave his side. Like an asshole, he asked her if she planned on hand feeding him, and she practically did. In her own fire-tempered way she let him know that she would stay. And he knew she would. His Rogue.

She shifted in the chair, as if she felt him watching her. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled softly at him. He remembered that smile. It was almost enough to make him smile back.

But he didn't. He didn't move.

Slowly, she stood from the chair and inched her way towards him. She moved as someone would who didn't want to frighten a skittish animal. Smart girl.

He thought she was going to embrace him. Instead, she jerked the covers down his body, grabbed his shirt and tugged it to her nose.

"I can't tell what's worse, the room or you."

She was still smiling at him.

"Go get in the shower and get yourself cleaned up. I'll take care of this." She gestured around with her hands. He didn't know if she meant the state of his room, or the broken door on the floor. He hoped it was the latter.

When he didn't move, she raised a brow. "Need help, sugah?"

Logan felt himself shake his head like an idiot and moved to the bathroom on autopilot. Once the door was shut, he stripped and turned the faucet as hot as it would go. He stepped under the spray and scrubbed and scratched at his skin until it was pink, raw, and tender. When his mutation healed his skin he did it again. And again. And again.

Every time he closed his eyes, if he so much as blinked, he saw Jean trembling with his claws buried in her chest. He saw the blame in her eyes. Sometimes there were others with her. Scott or The Professor looking at him in disappointment.

He lost track of how long he tried to wash the guilt away. He felt detached from everything but the ever-present pain.

Marie came in and turned the shower off when the water was already like ice. She didn't say anything to him, just took his hand and lead him to stand on the bathmat. He stood still while she took her time drying off his entire body. He watched her move slowly and delicately. Her soothing touch was a sharp contrast to the roughness of his fingernails moments ago. If he wasn't so numb, he might have considered her feathery touch to be sensual.

After Marie had completely dried him off, she wrapped a towel around his waist and he sat on the toilet lid as instructed.

She reached to the counter for a razor that he'd never seen before, and when she brought it to his face he could smell Iceboy. For a fleeting moment, he tried to guess the probability that she had gone back to being with Bobby.

When she finished shaving him, she grabbed a pair of scissors and moved to cut his hair.

He jerked away from her touch.

"Why are you doing this, Rogue?" He asked. His voice was rough and he sounded harsher than he meant to.

She looked at him for a long moment, but didn't answer. He closed his eyes to break the connection and she began to cut. He felt his tears run down his skin, but she didn't stop.

The sound of the scissors dropping back against the counter top made him open his eyes. He watched as she leaned forward and kissed his cheeks, her lips becoming shiny from his tears. She pulled back to lock her eyes with his again, and he wondered what she saw. He couldn't read it in her face anymore. She must be picking up on her training. As she reached down to grasp his hand, he didn't question why that idea stung him.

"C'mon," she prompted and she tugged at him to stand up. When he did, she sighed audibly and began to clean the clippings at his feet.

He stood there, waiting for her to make the next move again.

She left him alone in the bathroom after handing him sweatpants and a tee-shirt, promising to be in his room when he was ready to come out. He dressed and moved to the mirror that sat above his sink and looked a face he had tried to ignore for months. Marie had trimmed his trademark mutton chops and cut his hair similar to how he normally wore it. He looked the same as he did a year ago. He hadn't aged. He didn't have any new wrinkles or grey hair. Despite how tired he felt, he didn't have inky bags under his eyes. And his frame didn't reflect his drop in food intake.

Looking at the man in his reflection, Logan felt like a liar.

He snarled and put his fist into the center of the glass, sending it cascading to the floor.

Suddenly, he wanted to run. Run from these do-gooders, from Jean, from the monster hidden behind that face in the mirror. He tore open the bathroom door, with more force than he'd exerted in months, ready to scare off his last tie to this place.

She was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing on her nails with her brows furrowed. When the door opened, he caught her quickly relax her face and she smiled at him. He could tell that her posture was tense, but she tried to make her body language casual.

Guilt crept back through him, and he remembered why he hadn't left. Why he wouldn't leave.

This time it was Marie who waited for him to make the next move. But he didn't know what she expected. He didn't know what to say. His body felt heavy and he was tired again.

He felt her eyes on him as he moved around to the other side of his bed. Not caring that it was still sometime in the afternoon, he lay down on his back next to her and closed his eyes. Instead of resisting her when she curled onto his chest, he tugged her up his body and buried his nose into her hair. He locked his arms tightly around her and selfishly sought whatever comfort she could give him.

He wasn't aware that he was crying again until he whispered a muffled, "Jean," and she sobbed with him.


	5. Growling

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to the X-Men or any recognizable characters herein. No monetary gain is made from this story.

Back to Marie's POV

* * *

Marie woke early in the morning. Earlier than she usually did, being restless and wracked with emotion. The day before, she had stayed with Logan until sometime in the evening and eventually left when he had fallen asleep. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling while yesterday's events replayed in her mind. It was hard to tell if she had made any real progress with him. She supposed that she had, since he hadn't kicked her out and seemed to cooperate with her so far. She was glad that he had showed some kind of emotional reaction, but the depth of the pain he displayed tormented her. And she felt more than a little in over her head.

Realizing that she was feeling way too anxious to fall back to sleep, she decided to shower and change before Logan woke up. If she was lucky, the hot water would help her relax.

She sat at her vanity afterwards brushing her wet hair, looking at the dog tags hanging from the corner of her mirror. They'd been suspended there, collecting dust, since Logan locked her out. It was hard for her to wear them so close to her heart when he had pushed her so far away. She brought her finger up to flick them and they swung against the glass, reflecting the light of her vanity around the room. She still wondered what exactly he meant when he gave them to her all those years ago. What she had meant to him.

And she hated herself for wondering why he had called out to Jean yesterday. Her throat tightened as she remembered the longing in his voice as he whimpered it.

She wasn't naïve, even back then. She knew that Logan was always attracted to Jean. She knew that he wanted her. The memories and feelings that she absorbed from him confirmed it. But was he in love with her? Was heartbreak the reason he couldn't move on like the rest of them?

Shaking her head at her reflection, she reached out to the tags and pulled them over her head. They felt heavier than she remembered, and the cold metal gave her goose bumps. She looked at them in her reflection for a moment before deciding to tuck them into her shirt.

When she stood and made her way to her door, she tried to tell herself that it wouldn't matter if he loved Jean. That it would be okay, as long as she could have him back in some small way. But stepping out into the quiet hallway and looking towards Logan's room, she knew that she could never really convince herself that was true.

A few feet away, his doorway was covered with a thin bed sheet that she had sloppily pinned up while he was in the shower the day before. She hesitated for a moment in front of it and wondered if she should knock or something. She rolled her eyes at herself and scoffed at the idiocy of the thought. _It's a little too late for that_.

She gently pulled the make-shift door to the side and stepped into the room. Everything was just as she left it, including the man sleeping on the bed. He looked so peaceful, a rarity for the feral. She was loath to wake him and pull him back into his painful reality. Only the hope that she could somehow save him moved her closer to his bed. She tiptoed towards him and when she reached his side, his eyes flashed open. She couldn't help but smile at him when she saw those eyes.

"Good morning," she softly greeted him.

His features hardened as he became more alert, and she sighed as she saw his mask slip on. The gentle Logan that bared his emotions yesterday probably wouldn't make an appearance today.

"Let's go get breakfast," she told him with an encouraging grin. She reached her hand down towards his. When he didn't take it, she grabbed his wrist instead and tried to pull him up.

Logan growled in warning at her and tugged his wrist back towards himself. Rogue felt her irritation rise and growled back at him, fully aware of whom exactly she was challenging. They stared at each other for a few minutes until Logan finally closed his eyes and scowled.

Marie, on the other hand, fought to contain a shit-eating grin. She had plenty of experience dealing with this version of Logan, although in the past she only had to witness it when he was deprived of a good fight, sex, or beer. But she supposed that he had been bereft of all three for a while now.

If he wanted to push back at her, she would meet him head on, blow-by-blow. And when he needs her again for a shoulder to cry on, she'll be there too. That was the best she could do. And admittedly, that was all she knew how to do for him.

After she finally managed to get him to his feet, she forced him into his bathroom with a change of clothes. The exertion of handling an uncooperative adamantium frame worked her into a light sweat, and she settled onto his bed as she heard the water run.

After a while, the door opened and Logan stood there looking at her with his jaw set tight. She watched a muscle tic in his neck for a few seconds, expecting him to say something. When his tension dissipated and he went back to scowling, she wished she knew what he was thinking.

She cleared her throat to break the silence. "Well…" _Well what, Marie? Just do something._

She bit her lip and stepped towards him. Linking her hand into the crook of his arm, she pulled him out of his room and through the hallway. While they walked down the stairs, she could only focus on the texture of his skin under her hand. He was soft and hard at the same time, and he was so warm. She missed this touch.

It was obvious that he was on edge, but he didn't pull away from her. And making their way through the mansion, she remembered that he never did, even when her skin was still so poisonous.

They reached the kitchens without any interruptions, and Marie was glad that most of the students were gone for the extended weekend. Ororo was sitting at the counter with a coffee and a paper. She looked at them with wide eyes when they entered, but recovered quickly and sent her trademark warm smile at the pair. She hastily gathered up her belongings and nodded encouragingly at Marie. She must have noticed that Logan was ready to either bolt or attack, and that Marie's fingers were turning white with the pressure of her grip on his arm. Rogue nodded back at the headmistress when she passed them on her way out.

"Okay!" Marie clasped her hands together and was sure she looked as awkward as she felt. She forced him into a seat at the table. "Whaddya wanna eat?"

She didn't really expect an answer, but when Logan growled at her again she couldn't control her temper. She grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter behind her and leaned over him, pointing the improvised weapon menacingly in his face.

"Quit growin' at me!" Their gazes locked in challenge once again.

Marie forced herself to back down. She stood up straight and took a couple deep breaths. "Logan," she tried again, and her voice still had a bit of an edge to it. "Ah am goin' ta make pancakes. Would ya like some?"

He gave her a curt nod. The motion was so small; if she wasn't looking directly at him, she would've missed it.

"Then what do ya say?" She berated, pointing the spoon at him again. She couldn't help it. She was still a little peeved.

He raised his brows and the shadow of a smile crossed his face. "P-please," he choked out.

"Alright then." Marie got to work on their breakfast. She felt his eyes on her the entire time.

Minutes later, she moved the pan into the sink and set their plates on the table. When Logan picked up his fork, she looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. "Thanks, kid."

A beat.

"Ah'm not a kid," she lightly murmured back.

This time he didn't fight the smile that spread over his face. "Nope, I guess not."

Marie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like a fool at the syrup bottle. _I think I found my Logan again._

* * *

Thanks for the reviews!

As far as updates go, I'll push for at least one a week. Some weeks, I might be able to post 2-3 chapters.


	6. The Danger Room

I do not claim any rights to the X-Men or any recognizable characters herein. No monetary gain is made from this story.

* * *

Laughter echoed off in the distance near the mansion. It seemed that all of the residents, both staff and student, wanted to take advantage of the warm weather and cloudless sky; and for once, the infamous weather witch was not responsible. Summer break was in the reachable distance and everyone yearned for it.

It was sometime in the afternoon, as Marie and Logan rounded the lake near the edge of the school grounds, away from curious eyes. They had fallen into a loose routine over the last two weeks. She would drag him – sometimes literally – out of his room to eat and walk around the grounds with her. She would talk to him about anything she could think of. And sometimes, he would casually comment on the things she said. But even when he didn't, she knew he listened to everything she told him. She always caught the subtle changes in his stance, the barest flicker of feeling in his eyes. She rambled about stories from her childhood, mansion gossip, the class she had begun to teach every other afternoon. Whenever she told him anything of her life in the last year he reacted the most, and she wished she could translate the emotion was that flashed across his face.

They walked in silence for a while as Marie reminisced over the latest story she had told him about the mansion's on goings. When they reached a piece of shoreline that she had once told him was her favorite place on the school's property, she turned to look at him. She had to shield her eyes with her hand from the sun to glance up at his face. His brow was furrowed in thought.

"Got a surprise for ya." She watched his face clear and his eyes shifted to her a moment before looking back out to the lake. She had his attention.

He gave her a brief chuckle – the sound was darker than she remembered it used to be. "Told you last time, kid. I'm not a picnic kinda guy."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him, and she could feel that she was already sun burnt. _At least he's good-humored today._ "It ain't a picnic, sugah."

She waited for him to guess again, but he didn't. She supposed she was lucky enough he was playing along so far. "Ah booked the Danger Room for the rest a' the day. Wasn't hard. Nobody wants to be inside since it's so nice out."

"Danger Room isn't for playing, kid."

Marie rolled her eyes and lifted her chin up. "Ah'm not a kid anymore, Logan. Ah know the Danger Room's for fightin'. Been doin' it long enough ta know."

There was that flicker again.

"Look, sugah, if ya don't wanna-"

He cut her off and sent her a forced-looking smile. "Well, what are we waiting for then?"

* * *

Marie stretched on the mat floor of the Danger Room, waiting for Logan to come out of the locker rooms. The black spandex she wore moved with her like second skin while she warmed up. The uniform had been a gift to her by the senior X-Team after she learned to control her mutation. It was the first thing she wore without her trademark gloves.

When Logan appeared, he wore a basic pair of yellow and blue basketball shorts and a fitted yellow exercise tank instead of the leather X-Men uniform he usually wore for combat training sessions. But Marie wasn't too surprised, since she guessed Logan would have left that to decay in his closet – still riddled with holes and covered in flecks of Dr. Grey's blood.

She moved to her feet and grinned at him, sensing the awkwardness in the room. She swallowed down her own butterflies, not sure if they were from nervousness or excitement. They used to do this all the time, during his extended stays at the mansion, when either of them suffered from his nightmares. "Ready?"

He didn't really look at all ready as he reached up to rub the tension from his neck.

Without thinking, Rogue coiled her muscles tight and shifted her shape slowly, just as she was trained to. Like lightning, she threw her body into a tight spin and used the momentum to land a solid kick to Logan's chest. He barely reacted, pulling back just enough to lessen the blow by a fraction. Not enough however, to keep him from falling back with a loud metal *thunk*.

He looked up at her incredulously from his position on the floor. Marie covered her grin with her hands and took a cautionary step back.

"Shit. Can't believe you did that."

She snickered. "Ah can't believe ya didn't stop me!"

The surprise dropped from his face, and he grinned wickedly at her. In an instant, her laughter stopped and a buzz of fear and anticipation pumped through her. She kept her eyes on him as he activated one of the Danger Room's training programs.

He lunged up from the floor and landed a punch to her side, but she dodged him when he moved to grab her. She danced around him out of reach.

"Looks like you're a little rusty, Wolverine," she taunted. She thought she heard him mutter 'smartass' before he knocked her feet out from under her.

They sparred for what felt like hours - at least to Marie - feeding off of each other's adrenaline. She didn't mean to keep taunting him, but she couldn't resist when it sparked so much familiarity between them. And he seemed to have no problem proving her 'rusty' remark wrong.

She supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised when her comments resulted in a particularly brutal punch aimed at her left shoulder. She brought her arm up to block him a second too late, and his adamantium fist landed on her wrist, snapping it back.

She knew it was broken before she even examined it, and clutched her wounded wrist to her chest as she eased herself down to sit on the mat.

Logan was quick to react and crouched in front of her, gently cradling her injured arm in his large hands. The skin around the protruding bone was already an angry red. Marie fumed at herself for not being able to keep the stinging tears out of eyes, especially in front of this man – the man that she was supposed to be strong for right now.

Wordlessly, he took her uninjured hand and pressed her palm into his cheek. He looked pointedly at her and she noticed how bright his blue eyes were in that moment, free from the grey storm clouds that had been haunting his gaze. She understood what he wanted.

The pull only lasted a second, but the pain was extensive for both of them. Marie closed her eyes as her bones knitted back together, and she focused on keeping her nausea down. She heard Logan collapse beside her, his breathing more labored than it was when they had been fighting.

"I'm sorry, Marie," he wheezed quietly.

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and turned to tell him that it was just an accident, that she was fine. His face was lined with pain and she followed the trail of a lone tear as it fell from his closed eyes. Her words caught in her throat, and she wondered what he was really sorry for. She was too coward to ask, too afraid of what he might say.

The playful mood was broken, reality set in again. A heaviness settled back over Marie, and she thought it might crush her.

She listened to their breathing slow, and asked the question she'd been wondering for months. "Why did ya stay? After…," she gestured her arms around, at a loss for words. "Why didn' cha just leave?"

His eyes were still shut, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Did you want me to?"

Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach and she picked at her shoelaces. "Sometimes," she answered honestly. "Ah think sometimes it might've been easier. For you, and maybe even for me too."

He shifted in the corner of her eye, and she felt those blue eyes cut into her. "For you?" He asked in confusion.

In that moment, she wanted to hurt him – like he kept hurting her. She wanted him to feel a small fraction of the ache that churned within her all these months. "Wake up, sugah. Ya think ya were the only person that lost someone? Think it was easy for 'Ro after losin' her friends, havin' ta run this whole damn school? What about all the kids? What about me?" Her voice broke as her tears began to fall. She turned her body away from him. "Ah lost them too. The Professor, Dr. Grey, Mr. Summers. And what was worse, was that after they were gone, the man Ah loved locked himself away from me. And Ah had to listen to him wait for death to come for him, through my bedroom door every night for the last year."

"Marie," he tried, and he touched her hand.

She recoiled from him and locked her eyes with his. She could barely recognize the harshness in her own voice. "Ah used to hate it when ya left, with no way to contact you - my best friend. But this was worse."

He looked broken again, like the day he cried out for Jean.

"Why'd ya stay, Logan?" She was whispering now. "For her? Her memory, maybe?"

There was no answer. He was completely frozen. She wondered if he was even still listening to her, but she couldn't stop. She didn't want to know the answers to these questions, but she couldn't shut up.

"Did ya love her?"

She strained her hears to listen over the thundering of her heart.

His response was muffled, quiet; but there was no mistaking what he said, "Yes."

She tore out of the Danger Room as fast as her legs would carry her, leaving him to sit there – stewing in his pain.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading guys!**

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	7. The Library

I do not claim any rights to the X-Men or any recognizable characters herein. No monetarily gain is made from this story.

* * *

Everything swam in and out of focus around her. The pounding of her heart matched the pace of her steps as she tore through the mansion with her head down, trying hard to put as much distance between her and the Danger Room as possible. As fate would have it, the previously deserted halls were now teaming with nosy students as the temperature dropped outside and dinner approached. They seemed to pulse around her, and she felt them look at her as they always had – as the singular oddity in a place filled with freaks.

Marie's eyes burned with the tears she fought against. And the nauseating swirl of emotions that churned throughout her was overwhelming. Everything was too much, too loud.

_Yes_, he had told her. He might as well have screamed it, with the way it echoed around her.

Through her mind's haze, she considered her escape routes. The closest was the large oak door down the hall, where she could seek guidance from 'Ro. Her knowing friend would listen with genuine concern, and something that the deep recesses of her memory could identify as motherly love. Or she could go up to Jubes, where an emotional quick-fix would be a tempting break from the pain.

Wherever she went, she knew that she couldn't walk down the hall towards her room. There, the faint smell of cigar smoke still stuck to the carpet, and the damp tinge of her new reality clung to the air in suffocating waves.

As if on autopilot, she stumbled into the mansion's sophisticated library. It wasn't large by any means – not like you would expect from a school library. It wasn't packed with study tables, desks, or even textbooks. Instead, the room housed a few plush chairs and an old ornate desk, as well as a vast literature collection gathered over time by the Xavier family.

Most of the students and staff sought lighter, cheerier rooms in the mansion to study or read, so the library was almost always deserted. Marie herself used to avoid this room, during a time when she hated being alone – being an outcast. But recently, this place reminded her most of the late professor. The musty smell of the old books coupled with the heavy silence was oddly comforting.

Settling into a chair by the window that overlooked the garden, she remembered a time when she sought that comfort from somewhere else.

OOO

_She was fighting hard against falling asleep on the pages of her open American History textbook. The common area was unusually empty. The others had all gone to bed after Mr. Summers firmly told them not to stay up too late, but that was hours ago and Marie's anxiety over her looming exam kept her downstairs. She reread the page about someone supposedly significant from a hundred years ago, praying that some of it would stick._

_She didn't hear the soft footsteps until they were directly behind her, and she was immediately alert. The memory of Magneto and his horrid machine was still fresh in her mind. Without too much obvious movement, she tucked her pen tightly in her fist – ready to put up a fight._

_A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she screamed. No one ever touched her. She dropped the pen and shot out of her chair, set on running from the room._

_Her attacker was shushing her and blocked her path to the door. She saw his form reach to the wall and flick the light on, illuminating the room beyond the small table lamp she was using._

_Logan stood before her holding his hands up in surrender. Her panic immediately subsided and her cheeks burned in embarrassment. Not only did she just have the most awkward panic attack ever, but she was wearing the ugliest pair of tattered sweats and she could practically feel the bags under her eyes and her hair sticking out in all directions. And of course Logan looked perfect and rugged and handsome, with his arms crossed smirking at her._

"_Hey Logan," she greeted him looking down at her socks. "Sorry, ya kinda scared me."_

"_I could tell." He uncrossed his arms and embraced her, pressing her into the cool leather of his jacket. "Missed you, kid."_

"_Ya did?" She mumbled into his chest. Her heart was thundering. He growled in acknowledgment. "Ah missed ya too."_

_They pulled apart and he looked at her for a moment. "How you been, Marie?"_

_The Wolverine in her mind translated the question for her, 'How have the geeks been treating you?' She shrugged him off. He already knew many of the other students were afraid of her and treated her differently. She didn't want to talk about that._

"_Ah have a big test tomorra'. Kinda stressed about it," she tried to sound casual about it._

"_Oh." He nodded at her and she could tell he was trying to sound like he understood. "I guess I should let you study or something then."_

_Her face fell at his words. He noticed._

_He shifted his weight and scratched at the skin under his chin. "Well maybe I could help you or, uh, yeah."_

_She chewed her bottom lip. "Okay. Sure."_

_After Logan retrieved a pack of beer from who-knows-where, they sat at the table around Marie's books and notes. She recounted all of the information that would likely be on the exam to him, and he interjected appropriately – 'that guy sounds like a kook' or 'they really making you read this crap?' But whenever Marie rubbed at her eyes, ready to give up on the mumble jumble, he would always encourage her. _

_Sometimes they took breaks, and Logan would tell her about his adventures up north. Or Marie would get lost on a tangent about her Mississippi past._

"_So, ya stayin?" She asked, subconsciously tracing the outline of the dog tags under her shirt._

_He shook his head. "Just need another lead from Chuck."_

"_Ya'll come back, right?" The possibility that he wouldn't was terrifying._

"_Yeah. I'll come back."_

"_Even if ya find what you're lookin' for?"_

_He reached across the table to take her hand. "I'll come back, kid."_

_She could feel how warm his hand was, even through her glove. He rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand and a sensation of calm washed over her and settled in her belly. She didn't feel worried about her exam anymore, and her insecurities were relieved. She knew he was telling the truth. That certainty would feed her long after he left._

OOO

She was so naive to think that he came back for her. It was Jean. She had ignored all the clues – refused to see that it was always Jean.

Frustrated, she swiped at her tears. The chain holding his dog tags felt like it was cutting into her skin. She tore them off and glared at them. She had gone through too much on her own to be broken down by this. These tags weren't a promise ring. They were given to a scared little girl on the brink of adulthood, as a comfort blanket. She threw them across the room.

It didn't help. She could still see them reflecting light from the base of the bookcase. Her heart still ached.

And she hated herself for not regretting loving him. Her feelings for him outweighed the pain, and she wondered if that made her somehow weak.

But now, she just felt exhausted. Isolating herself in the library had helped calm her nerves, at least for now.

She walked over to the other side of the room and bent down to pick up the dog tags. She tucked them into her pocket and left the library. Ignoring her hunger, she made her way to the grand staircase. Thankfully, there were very few students out this time.

Maybe if she just went to sleep, she could put off dealing with all of this for a little longer.

She shuffled down the last hallway to her room, keeping her gaze anywhere but on the doorway across from hers. She practically threw her door open, anxious to hole up in her room.

The hulking figure on the edge of her bed surprised her. When Logan looked up to meet her gaze, she felt all of her wounds tear open and anger boil through her veins.

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**Thanks again to everyone that's reviewed. I live for those reviews, I really do!**

**Hopefully this chapter was okay, and didn't seem like a filler. I kind of liked it anyway )**


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